


Scotch and Stillettos

by Lauriana25



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Era-Appropriate Dialogue, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Film Noir, Inspired by Jessica Rabbit, Katsuki Yuuri in heels, Lipstick, M/M, Rimming, Seduction, Slow Burn, Swearing, Victor's name spelled as Viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 04:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16549190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauriana25/pseuds/Lauriana25
Summary: In the smoky air of a jazzclub downtown, long satin-wrapped legs and a voice smooth as honey have Private Eye Viktor Nikiforov captivated; and an unfamiliar halo of silver hair and long fingers wrapped around a glass of scotch have the vixen on stage intrigued.





	Scotch and Stillettos

**Author's Note:**

> Team #MutualDistraction is back!
> 
> This time, we've brought you a sizzling slice of Film Noir, starring the life-weary Private Eye, Viktor Nikiforov, and the sultry jazzclub singer, Eros. We recommend you watch this in black-and-white.
> 
> This is all because Lauriana25 was dumb enough to confess her one and only she-crush was Jessica Rabbit XD  
> (Hands up anyone who doesn't think she's hot...didn't think so! Lol!)
> 
> _(IA's note- this is also because Lauriana25 talked me into a scenario challenge, to see who could set a scene better. This is the result of both of us winning the challenge.)_
> 
> Here's a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLMDPEX1g1Df3tXvCeDsx3kLggoxaC3rI4) of recommended listening!  
> 

A drink. That was all he wanted. Something to take the edge off. The life of a private eye was rough, lonely, dark. That suited Viktor just fine. A scotch on the rocks swirling in his hand, he settled in the only empty seat, next to the dimly lit stage and prepared to let his troubles wash away with every sip. 

The subtle strums of a double bass plucked at his mind, drawing his eye to the stage. 

The longest leg he'd ever seen peeked from behind the red velvet curtain, every tight inch hugged perfectly by black satin. Viktor felt the unexpected urge to run his tongue over that leg, just to see if he could make that taut skin tremble. 

The curtain lifted and Viktor knew he was fucked. Or rather, he wanted to be fucked. Or to be the one who fucked the creature onstage. Legs that went on forever. Thighs that would look perfect spread over his face. A chest he could grate cheese on. Arms that could probably pin him to the wall easily. And a face that would put Aphrodite to shame. 

As the satin-draped vision prowled on stage, his velvety voice sent shivers straight to Viktor's cock. He wanted to hear his name being cried out by that voice, over and over, growing breathless and husky. Amber eyes locked on to him. Oh he was so fucked, judging by the wicked smirk on those full, pouty lips. He was a panther, stalking Viktor with every slow roll of his hips, every line his pink tongue drew over his lips as he sang, every deliberate step towards his chair. 

And Viktor wanted him to swallow him whole.

It didn't take long to pick him out. His prey for the night. The man wasn't exactly easy to avoid, the silver hair gleaming like the glowing curve of the moon on a cloudless night, even in the dark, smoky air of the club. The nondescript black and white suit of a man trying to shirk the attention, crossing and uncrossing his legs with his hat unsubtly resting in his lap. To him, this was a direct challenge. He narrowed amber eyes in the way that brought men to their knees, curled painted lips into a lascivious smile and swaying his hips in the glossy fabric, earning a few wolfish grins and lewd whistles from the crowd. He knew the sinful things his body did to his patrons. The music rolled through him and out him, the sultry call of a siren; luring men to their deaths for their chance with him.

The man with silver hair froze, scotch half-lifted to his mouth. Each step of a heeled foot, each singular note falling off his lips, each hooded bat of his thick eyelashes, pulled the man further into his snare. Over the music, he heard the ice rattling in his glass. He was _precisely_ where he wanted him. The long column of his neck exposed, pale and stark against the dark fabric of his jacket, the telltale drop of his Adam's apple as he swallowed thickly. He extended a velvet-wrapped hand expectantly and men stumbled over themselves to aid his descent down the small flight of stairs to the floor. But the silver-haired man made no move. 

_Yes. He would do._

Viktor gripped the glass in his hand like his life depended on it. Like, somehow, it could shield him from those damned eyes that seemed to burn into through his shirt. He watched, hypnotised, as he sashayed down the stairs, his gloved hand resting oh so demurely in the eager grip of young man with wild, blonde hair. Viktor almost smirked at the enraptured look in the boy's face, how his large eyes shone in the dim light, how he chewed on his lower lip so hard a fanged tooth was visible even from where Viktor was sitting. 

_’He'd eat you up and spit your bones out, kiddo.'_ he thought as the boy held onto that velvety hand for a second too long. Without even missing a beat, amber eyes flashed heatedly and the blonde boy dropped his hand like it had caught fire, his face flushing as he stumbled back into his seat. 

Not that Viktor would mind those teeth gnawing on his bones. Or any other part of him. 

He hastily brought his drink to his lips, swallowing more of the fiery liquid than he'd intended. He felt it burn his throat but he fought the urge to choke. He'd be damned if he was going to choke in front of that man. 

Now, to choke _because_ of him...

With a reassuring glance at the dark-haired heavy standing in the corner, he continued his stalking. The boy was harmless, a bunny rabbit in a den of wolves. There was no need for him to be thrown out - yet. If he tried to grab him on his way back to the stage, though... 

He drew out every syllable of his song like a purr, dragging his lower lip between his teeth for emphasis. He knew full well that he had a voice that could make even the hardest man tremble, but he didn't want any man tonight. He wanted _him_. 

So a change of tact was called for. He could make his way directly to the silver-haired patron, climb into his lap right there and then and give him something to think about besides his glass of cheap scotch. He could whisper his siren song straight into the shell of his ear until he made him moan for more. 

But tonight was different; he wanted to take his time, draw the game out until the man was putty in his hands. So he worked the room; a subtle wink here, a featherlight brush of a fingertip along a bicep there, drawing every pair of eyes to him like he was the centre of gravity. He couldn't deny that he felt a little thrill at all attention, so long as he controlled it. 

_’You can look, but you cannot touch.’_ The sign above the door of _le Grand Prix_ was all the protection he needed. One wrong move, a man could find himself head first in a trash can before he'd even realised what was happening. 

_’Him though...'_ he thought with a sultry flash of a smile to an auburn-haired young man, a smattering of faint freckles dotting his nose and blushed cheeks, _'he could touch anywhere he wanted.'_

As he circled the room, he knew the silver-haired man was following every step. He felt the weight of his azure eyes in the semi-darkness and it sent a chill down his spine. This was no ordinary patron. This was something… fun.

Viktor felt him approach before he saw him. It was like the thick smoky air grew warm as he slinked his way behind his shoulder, his rich voice clawing at his skin in a way that he wanted those gloved fingers to do. Slow, languid and _oh so_ nice. A brush of velvet along the nape of his neck made him flinch. _Flinch_! He looked up over his shoulder and saw the amused glint in those amber eyes - he had noticed the sudden movement and he was fucking pleased with himself. 

Now up close, Viktor could see the diamond pattern in the satin catsuit, the material shiny and soft, just begging to be ripped off. A tiny section just above his hip was littered with faux crystals, the glinting surfaces drawing his eyes further down. 

Viktor swallowed again, mouth bone-dry and eager to taste what was encased in satin, the outline clear for him to see. Oh, that would feel good on his tongue...

The poor thing looked like he was melting. Perhaps he had had enough of the slow, cruel tease he’d been watching, all the while feeling the weight of his glare, dark and predatory even among the throng of men he was touching so glancingly, just the barest of satin fingertips sliding along jawlines and long slopes of broad shoulders. He could feel the man’s eyes trailing to where the crystals led.

_Good._

The man shifted uncomfortably again, and in the moment blue eyes blinked, he took his seat on his lap. He could almost hear the crowd panting for more flesh, more sin, more _Eros._ But he'd made his choice for the night, the utterly delicious foreign man biting the inside of his cheek and gripping a scotch so hard the glass might break. He kept singing, kept drawing the crowd in with his dulcet, silky tones.

He scratched the man's sharp jawline gently with a long, gloved fingernail, not enough to scrape... but enough to burn. And he wanted the man to burn. He crooned the final few notes of his song from his perch on the man's thigh, shifting his weight in a tempting circular motion. _’Look, but do not touch, sweetheart.'_ he whispered to the man with his eyes, those wide, blinking baby blues. The room erupted in applause and the band played the first of a few songs without him at his signal to the bassist. He turned to the man barely holding it together below him.

“Whoever said it takes two to tango has clearly never met you, darlin’. Because you are all that and a foxtrot all on your own.” His words curled seductively around the man's ear, just like he knew they would. It pulled a shiver from Silver-hair, goosebumps pimpling at the back of his neck. “But you're tired of dancing alone, aren't you?” He whispered into the shell of his ear. The slightest, barely-there of a nod. The tiniest tremble of silver hair over his eye, the most minute flex of a clenched jaw. What was obvious, however, was the long line of his erection pressing against his ass.

“Mmm. I thought so.”

Viktor, the sleuth, the case-closer, the damned best private eye in this godforsaken city, was speechless. He couldn't for the life of him take his eyes off the scandalously-attractive man in his lap, so close he could smell the heady aroma of his cologne linger along his vanilla-coloured collarbone, calling for him to close that gap and find out if it tasted as good as it smelled.

He moved to take another drink (and give himself a second to gather his dirty, dirty thoughts,) but the singer pressed a forefinger to the glass, pushing it back down onto the table, all the while keeping his amber eyes fixed on him.

"You don't want this," that voice was going to kill Viktor tonight, he just knew it, "I can tell you'd prefer something a bit...classier." 

"Honey, in a dive like this, what's classier than a scotch?" Viktor leaned back in his chair, drinking in the view of those sumptuous hips curving over him, imagining how it'd feel to grip them. Hard. Maybe from behind. Or below. A throaty chuckle snapped him from his thoughts. 

"You saying I'm not classy enough for you, Mister...?"

Before he could stop himself, Viktor found himself saying, "Baby, with a voice like that, you can call me anything you want." 

Another low, gravelly chuckle. Oh, he was so fucked. 

"And with a voice like yours, sugar, you can call me _’baby'_ all night long."

_**"EROS!"** _

The man in his lap - Eros - rolled his eyes and turned his head, slinking his hands lazily around his prey's neck. Viktor followed his gaze and found a balding old man with a deep frown and small, piggy eyes looming over him, arms folded and a scowl twisting his weathered lips. Either side of him were two goons; a young blonde with catlike eyes and a olive-skinned man with narrowed eyes and a firm jaw. None of them looked too pleased with the singer's choice of seat.

"Yes, Yakov?" Eros sighed, already bored with the older man's presence. Couldn't he see he was in the middle of something?

"Your set isn't over yet." Yakov growled, the deep, accented tone grating on Viktor's nerves. Eros uncurled himself from Viktor's lap and faced his boss, raven hair fluttering along his jawline as he tipped his head to one side.

"I'm just being friendly, aren't I, honey?" Eros cast a sultry look over his shoulder at the wide-eyed plaything, grinning as he quickly nodded.

"Be friendly on your own time!" Yakov hissed. Viktor really didn't care for his tone.

"How much?"

Four sets of eyes turned to him at once, all flashing the same shocked expression.

"I beg your pardon?" the older proprietor spluttered. Viktor reached into his jacket pocket, thanking god his last client paid up on time. He threw a wad of notes on the table with as much care as one would toss a napkin. Yakov hissed in a sharp breath, eyes bulging at the pile of money.

"You heard me, bub." Viktor drawled, swirling his scotch one last time before downing the burning liquid with a hiss. "How much do you pay Eros for his set? That much? More? I'm sure I can compensate you for your loss."

The blonde goon scoffed, a lip curling upwards. "Loss? Loss of what?"

Viktor smirked, silver hair brushing over an azure eye. "The loss of your singer. See, I kinda like his singing. But he shouldn't be in a dump like this."

Before the three men had the chance to grab him, Viktor stood up. Eros gaped wide-eyed at how tall he was - almost a head above him. He wondered if he looked that good staring down at him from a more horizontal angle.

Viktor gently placed a slender hand on the small of Eros' back. "Whaddya say, babydoll? Can I steal you away for the evening?"

Smirking at the incredulous stare of his former boss, his replied, "Honey, keep talking like that and you can keep me for as long as you like."

"Are you kidding? You think it's about the _money?_ Eros sells sex better than any of our other boys. And sex goes down well with whiskey." The pig-faced older man barked, Viktor noticed the slight tremble in his clenched fist. He had him on the ropes.

"Yakov, you know damn well nothing makes your cheap swill go down easy. Not even these legs. I'll be going." Eros crooned dangerously, leaning into the warm wall of man behind him, the sharp corner of crimson lips curling toward his ear in a lopsided smirk. He pushed the swell of his rear gently into Silver's hip before grabbing his hat off the table and setting it on his own head. Viktor's breath hitched at the sight, such a silly show of completely and utterly claiming him. Maybe he was reading into the gesture. But the way amber eyes glanced up at him over his shoulder from under the brim... it had to be at least close to the truth.

"Babydoll, should we go fetch your things from your dressing room?" Viktor asked, curling his arm possessively around a wide hip, almost shuddering at the slide of the silky catsuit under his fingertips.

"What, not in the mood to walk out with me lookin' like this?" He stuck out a pouty lip and turned in the embrace, pawing at Viktor's tie with gloved hands, gently trailing up his chest and tracing the fullness of his lips.

"On the contrary darlin', I'm just a fool hoping to get you alone." Viktor mumbled as he caught a teasing finger between his teeth, tugging gently at the black, velvety barrier between their flesh. He half-expected an angry hand to meet his cheek, but none came. Only a tiny hitched breath, almost drowned out by the young blonde goon's screeching.

" _EROS, GO BE GROSS SOMEWHERE ELSE!_ We're losing patrons!" The raven pulled his lidded gaze from the man with his glove between pearly white teeth and glanced around the room, finding it a bit more sparse since he'd slid into the man's lap.

"Hmm. Shame. Why don't you ring up Peach? I heard he's free tonight. Or maybe you could entertain tonight, Kitten." He teased, withdrawing his finger from his prey's mouth with a gentle tap to his jaw and a fist around his slippery tie. He began to lead the man through the throng of men to the curtained-off area behind the small stage when the old man's voice rang over the crowd,

"Eros, if you take even one more step, you'll never play _le Grand Prix_ again." His voice low and guttural like a growling dog. "Do you hear me?" He repeated when no response was made. Amber eyes met icy blue with a tiny hint of something mischievous glinting like gold behind his irises.

"You'll never need to play this dump again, babydoll. I'll see to that. Lead the way." He crooned, plucking his hat off the boy's head and plopping it back onto his own. Red lips smiled again, no toying sensuality this time. Viktor could tell this one was genuine, if only for the way his eyes crinkled gently at the outside corners. He lifted a gloved hand to his lips and laid a warm, wet kiss to the meeting between his pointer and middle fingers, both a gentleman's greeting and a tantalizing promise.

Eros moved effortlessly into the crook of Silver's arm, secretly enjoying the possessive grip of that slender hand on his hip again. He nudged in a little closer, his waist pressed up against the firm wall of warm muscles under that (upon closer inspection) rather tasteful suit, a mischievous smirk tugging a corner of his mouth at the impatient hiss it drew from the taller man. 

"Sweetheart, you keep doing that I'll-" Viktor started but found the sentence trailing when a gloved hand snatched at his tie again, yanking his head down hard at an awkward angle. 

Crimson lips crashed against his, a hungry moan spilling into his mouth so much easier than that damned scotch. Velvet-covered fingers scraped into his hair, tugging him down into the most ferocious kiss he'd ever had. His skin on fire, Viktor grabbed Eros like he'd disappear into thin air if he didn't, fingers pressing into the satin costume that snaked over his hips. Eros seemed to like that, judging by how he pushed further into him, pressing himself up against him for a second time tonight. Only this time, Viktor wasn't the only one enjoying himself.

"Ya know," Eros panted against his lips, making Viktor ache for them to be back there, "you still haven't told me your name." 

"Viktor." Eros smiled, planting another wet kiss on his lips. 

"Hmm, Viktooo _oor._ " he purred and Viktor pushed him up against the wall like his life depended on it. He ground his hips against Eros, the gasps that filled the air running down his spine, spurring him on. 

"Dammit, honey, say my name like that again!"

Eros pushed Viktor back until he was at arm's reach, licking his lips and panting for breath. He smirked at the smudge of rouge over the taller man's mouth and ran his thumb over the mark, sucking in a sharp breath when Viktor caught the tip of the digit between his teeth. 

"Not here." he whispered, "I thought you wanted to take me away from this shithole."

"Of course, darlin'." Viktor stepped back, straightening his tie, sweeping a slender hand in the direction of the exit. Eros smiled sweetly at him and walked ahead of him this time, deliberately making the roll of his hips just that little bit more obvious. "My car's right outside the door." 

"Already planned an easy exit?" Eros teased with a raised brow. Viktor chuckled. Eros really liked that sound. 

"Babydoll, I can tell there ain't nothing easy about you!" 

He couldn't tell under the streetlight as they stepped into the night air, but Viktor could have sworn he saw a blush rise on the younger man's face.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, Viktoooor."

Viktor's heart was pounding out of his chest, the taste of his lips still buzzing in his mouth, the sound of his name drawing ragged breaths from his chest. He pulled him across the empty street and opened the passenger door, biting back the urge to toss him into the backseat and just taking him there, of rocking the suspension until the police came knocking on fogged-up windows. 

But he would play the gentleman. At least until he could peel him out of that damned catsuit. Eros slid into the leather bench seat like he belonged there, taking a quick inventory of the interior as Viktor rounded the hood. Nondescript. No flashy markings. No personal effects. For all intents and purposes, the car was completely impersonal, if not immaculately kept. It still smelled like new carpet and leather.

He grinned like the Cheshire Cat when Viktor pulled his own door open, and dropped in behind the wheel, curling a strong arm around his narrow shoulders and kissing him full on the mouth, drinking in the surprised gasp and ensuing sweet moans. They pulled apart, a shiny string of saliva connecting their lips. Viktor didn't have time to be embarrassed by the impropriety, before Eros leaned into his ear and purred,

"Take me home, Viktooooor."

Viktor shoved the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life faster than he'd ever done before, spurred on by the urgent pull under his skin and the insistent length trapped under his slacks. He wrenched his eyes away from the amber orbs that seemed to glisten in the dark of the night, and set them on the road, on the fastest route back to his apartment, avoiding the usual places police liked to hide. (He was going entirely too fast for the city streets.) Eros was toying with the inseam of his trousers, dancing fingers teasing the curved line of his fly in a way that should be illegal in all sovereign nations.

"B-babydoll, if ya keep... t-touching there, we might not make it back to my place..." he stammered. Viktor _fucking_ Nikiforov, cool under pressure, tough-as-steel private eye, had the mayor's private line, Viktor Nikiforov, fucking stuttering.

"Oh, fine." Gloved hands pulled away and Viktor sighed a breath of relief. He was too on-edge for more teasing. He needed that man's clothes littering the floor, his lipstick smeared all over his face, his neck and throat, and gods-willing, a sweet ring of red around the base of his cock.

"So, what brought you to _le Grand Prix_ , Viktor Nikiforov, Private Investigator?" 

Viktor snapped his head to one side, blue eyes wide with shock at the sound of that smooth voice rolling every syllable of his name like it was candy on his tongue. His jaw dropped when he saw Eros lounging on the leather seat, his wallet in one hand, his ID card in the other, a cool smile making that smudged mouth lopsided. 

He instinctively patted his breast pocket. "You picked my pocket?" 

Eros tipped his head back with a lazy laugh. "Oh, honey. You'd be amazed what I can do with my hands." 

Viktor forced his eyes back on the road. The front of his slacks had started to tent again as the mental image of those gloved hands reaching places he could only dream of, of those long fingers marking his skin, of those damned palms wrapped around his cock almost made him swerve off the road. And Viktor was going to be damned if he wasn't going to find out if the reality lived up to the fantasy.

"So?" How was that voice so distracting and so captivating at the same time, taking his mind to far-off places and bringing back to the here and now? "Was it business? Or pleasure?"

Viktor shrugged. "Neither. Although," he reached over, taking Eros' hand in his, bringing it to his lips again without taking his eyes off the road, "I'm very glad I did come tonight." 

Eros slid across the bench seat, pulling his hand from Viktor's only to glide it down the front of his shirt, toying with every button like he fully intended to rip them off. 

"Mmhmm me too, darling." He leaned in a little closer, despite the restriction of his seat belt. "Although I'm sure I really could make you glad...to come tonight." 

Viktor did swerve that time, with a breathy moan and a dark glance at the man next to him. Eros innocently slid back to his side of the car, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he grinned.

When they finally pulled up outside a red-brick apartment block, Viktor hurried out of the car to open the passenger door. Extending a hand out, a chill ran down his spine as Eros wrapped his fingers over his own and stepped out. He might be a gentleman, but Viktor was not blind, and watching those delectable legs swing out of his car, killer heels clicking onto the pavement, made his mouth water. He all-but slammed the door shut and Eros leaned against it, amber eyes glinting under the streetlamp. 

Viktor would later chastise himself for being weak, but what the hell.

He crashed their lips together again, drawing a desperate moan from that sinful mouth, and pinned Eros to the car door until he knew he'd be able to feel just how weak he was right now. And when he felt gloved fingers tug on his hair, felt the glide of an expert tongue against his, felt just how much Eros was enjoying this, he knew if they didn't move away from the car now, they never would. He pulled away, smirking as Eros chased another kiss with a pout, and took his hand. He was not going to run inside. He was not going to drag this fine specimen upstairs. Viktor Nikiforov had more class than that. Sure, he was also a monkey's uncle.

 _’Gods help me'_ Eros whispered in the privacy of his mind, beginning to grow hazy with arousal and drunk on the man's kiss. He prayed to whoever was listening that the walls of Viktor's apartment building were thick enough to contain the utter sin he hoped he'd be screaming all night. Or maybe not. A noise complaint might be fun. He marvelled at the weight of that hand, the hand wrapped around his. _'A private eye... Must be lonely.'_

Eros hooked a long, lithe arm around Viktor's extended right, looking, for all accounts, like he was bringing home his catch of the day. But who had caught who? And who would take the lead of this delicate play for power when no eyes but amber and azure were watching? A shiver ran down the length of his spine. Eros, the embodiment of sexual love and fantasy, reduced to quaking. Eros bit back a snorting laugh at the idea as he let Viktor lead him into the building, finding it difficult not to grow distracted by the strength in his bicep and the sharp line of his cheekbones. His prey was certainly delicious. But so was he. And Eros wanted to be the only one to satisfy him.

"Penny for your thoughts babydoll?" The man asked as he called the lift. Eros could hear that he was trying to control his breaths, if the bead of sweat on his temple was any hint.

"Darlin', you won't need a penny to hear what I'm thinking. Soon's I get you alone, you'll never wonder again." Eros crooned as the elevator arrived. Viktor slid the grate to the side and rolled the door open, stepping to the side for the silken panther to board. And there was that inviting throat again, the pure marble begging to be claimed by Eros.

He slinked into the small box and leaned against the back wall, cocking a hip and running a gloved hand through soft, raven locks. He was a temptress, and he'd see Viktor unravelled with his own fingertips. He curled a finger toward himself, lips perfectly kissable and body ripe for plundering.

"Well, gonna stand there all night? Or you gonna take me home and finally get me out of this suit?" Eros called, running hands up and down the curves of his waist and hips as Viktor stood, mouth agape. This was the first time he'd seen him with the lights on. And he had him hooked. Completely, and utterly hooked.

Viktor shook his head, silver hair flashing in the light. "Course, baby," he mumbled and slid into the lift in front of him, pressed the button for his floor and dragged the doors shut. The lift began to move, and so did Viktor. He turned on his heel, slamming hands against the wall of the tiny box, bracketing Eros' head between them, casting the man in shadow as Viktor's silver head eclipsed the single bulb above them.

"How about now, babydoll? _Penny. For. Your. Thoughts?"_ Viktor's voice growled, leaning down to nip at the younger man's throat and jaw with every word. A shaky breath escaped painted lips and ruffled the sheet of silver fringe.

"I hope you're ready for a ride, Viktoooor." He moaned as the man captured his lips in a greedy, wet, demanding kiss.

"To hell with this!" 

Viktor grabbed at Eros, pawing and clawing at his hips like an animal, finding just how well those curves fitted in his hands, like they were tailor-made for him. Eros' breath ghosted on his mouth, gasping excitedly as his fingers found purchase on the underside of his thighs and lifted, hoisting the smaller man in the air and up against the wall in a heartbeat. Gloved hands gripped his shoulders and the back of his neck as he ground hard into the hardened bulge in the satin catsuit, his own erection growing at the frustrating friction. Eros wrapped his long legs around his waist, killer heels scraping along the length of his thighs as they moved higher and higher until he was enveloped in hot, strong muscles. Viktor would happily lie down and let Eros walk all over his back in those fucking heels, but not just yet. He had more...pressing matters to attend to.

"Mmmm, Viktorrrrr~" Eros drew out that last syllable in a husky purr against his lips, teeth tugging at his lower lip, daring him to keep going. Viktor rolled his hips, just once, slow and hard, a shared moan filled the elevator. Eros blindly reached for Viktor's tie, tugging at the knot until the silk came apart for him. Just like the man who held him would come undone. Just like he wanted to be undone. Over and over again.

"God dammit, baby!" Viktor growled, dragging his kiss-swollen lips along that firm jawline, down that slender neck as he continued to grind and grip against the wet dream in his arms. The hitch of breath against his lips, the dip of an Adam's apple, the tightening grip of a gloved hand in his hair and he knew he'd found that spot. That spot, just below his ear, that he could tease with his teeth and tongue to drive Eros insane. He tortured that spot, bruising and marking his neck until he could hear his name being panted into his hairline. And gods, Viktor loved that sound!

"Vik-Viktor!" Eros' eyes fluttered shut, that name spilling from his lips like a prayer as he arched his back off the cold mirrored wall, pushing into Viktor's crotch with as much force as the taller man slammed into him. It wasn't enough. He wanted more. He needed flesh. The taste of it on his tongue. The feel of it under his fingertips. Between his legs. _Inside him._ How many nights had he pretended to be this riled up, just for an extra bill in his belt? How many times had he told himself that only he could make other men feel like this? 

Never again. Not after this. He knew, at that moment, Eros had become the prey. And _gods_ he wanted it!

Neither of them heard the soft ding of the elevator, having reached their destination. All they heard was desperate moans, whispered cuss words and begging praise. 

Until they heard the very clear sound of a throat being cleared. With an air of disgust. Coming from outside the elevator.

"Ah." Viktor mumbled into Eros' collarbone, a blush burning his face as he turned his head. Yep, of course. It had to be her who saw them like this. A rake-thin old bat of a woman, with pinched cheeks and pursed lips. His landlady. And she was looking at them like they were personally insulting her by being in her presence. 

Reluctantly, he settled Eros back onto his feet and turned around, quickly pulling his hat off to tip it to the lady (and hold it over his lap in what he hoped was a non-obvious cover-up) and putting himself between the old bat and the _homme fatale._

"'Evening, Mrs. Baranovskaya." he greeted his landlady with a bright smile. Just like he always did. Even if she did look at him like he was something her damned cat had dragged in.

"Hmph. Evening, Mr. Nikiforov." She bit sternly, sounding every bit the scolding mother. He flashed his toothy grin and pulled Eros through the open elevator door and into the hall beyond, ducking under the daggers the landlady was throwing with her eyes. Eros giggled, a throaty thing full of mirth and molasses. Even his laugh was nearly too much. How much more would his words destroy him that night?

"Whoops. Sorry to kill the buzz there, darlin'," Viktor apologized breathlessly, having finally reached his door at the end of the hall and searching for his keys. "I was hoping you wouldn't... have to... meet her..." his voice trailed off as every pocket turned out empty, the tinny ring of his keys swirling around a long, velveteen finger.

"Lookin' for these, hmm?" Eros murmured, dark as the night outside the window. Viktor weighed his options before choosing the more _entertaining_ of the two. _A strong arm around the waist, one foot between the stiletto-ed feet, pull the arm tight, knock the feet apart gently, set him off-balance. Twist. Grab the hand holding the keys._ Eros blinked and he was pressed to the wall again, the keys somehow between Viktor's teeth. Eros didn't have time to ask, ' _What the hell did you just do?'_ before the door swung open and he was pulled inside.

He barely even had time to spare a glance around the apartment before a hat landed on the table, a jacket dropped to the floor. His lips captured in a hungry kiss and long, pale fingers fumbling for some kind of zipper, buttons, anything. He gasped when Viktor's hands found the nearly invisible zipper and pulling it down the length of his spine, finally feeling the kiss of cold air against his skin.

"Been waiting for this all night, baby. Teasing me so much, I thought I might lose my damn mind." Viktor growled against that spot beneath his ear, already purpling and marred with his kiss, fingers exploring the soft expanse of Eros' back, reading every dip and swell like Braille. The younger man moaned as a fingernail traced the long line of his backbone, aching to feel more of the man's touch.

Viktor was burning, melting and burning and rolling like the tide all at once, Eros' mouth slotting into his as if sculpted by the gods’ very will that they spend eternity in that moment, of heated tongue and dark, moaned confessions of ' _yes_ ’ and _’more’_ and _’gods, yes, more'._

"Eros, _fuck_ , baby, I need you." Viktor moaned as he struggled to unbutton his formerly crisp white button-up, now rumpled and damp. Gloved hands replaced his, sliding black suspenders off his shoulders and curling into the collar of his shirt, and made good on the fantasy. He pulled hard, savoring the sound of buttons clattering to the ground, and exposing the most ludicrously sculpted torso he'd seen in his life. He licked his lips, barely controlling the urge to outline every hard plane of muscle with his tongue.

"Well then, why don't you take me, Viktor?" Eros asked, twin silken hands finding the pebbled flesh of his nipples and savoring the hissing breath that passed through his teeth.

Viktor felt torn; between taking his sweet time, dragging this out until Eros was begging for him, or just throwing him against the wall and fucking him until he begged for mercy. Both equally appealing, so many possibilities to make him cry out his name and fill the night air with filthy confessions. He went with option one.

He shrugged himself out of his ruined shirt, not hiding his feral grin as Eros licked his lips again, amber eyes flashing darkly with want. He took a step towards him, towering over him like a shadow. An upturned corner of rouge lips let him know that his playmate recognised the game.

The telltale click of stilettoes on his hardwood floor echoed in the silence, adding to the sound of his pounding heart. One step. Another step. One more and Eros felt his back hit the wall, the cool impact drawing a hiss from his lips. Viktor loomed over him again, swaying his head from side to side, making him only guess when their lips would connect again. He tipped his chin upwards, desperate. Yes, Eros, the siren of _le Grand Prix_ , was desperate. Desperate for those burning lips again. For this man to wreck him, thoroughly and gladly. He didn't have to wait for long. A breathy whisper of his name was all the signal he received before he felt that heated pressure again and he opened for more, drinking in Viktor's moans and tongue like water. No, this was better than water. And all of a sudden, it was gone.

Eros opened his eyes with a frown. Where was his kiss? Why had it stopped?

A gentle grip on his hand caught his attention. He stood, hypnotised, as Viktor brought his hand to his lips again. Only he had no intention of kissing it. Bringing the tip of his forefinger to his mouth, he grinned as he caught the soft fabric between his teeth and began to pull. Slowly. Almost torturously slow. As the glove skimmed over his forearm, past his wrist and from his fingers, Eros saw fire light up Viktor's azure eyes as he watched vanilla-coloured flesh appear before him. The glove hung from his teeth for a moment like a trophy before he let it drop to the floor.

Eros had stripped for many men before. Had felt the weight of many eyes as he peeled satin, lace and silk from his firm flesh. Never had someone taken an item of clothing from him. It felt...erotic. Addictive. He found himself craving the feel of those pearly whites on his skin like a boozehound craved whiskey.

Bringing his other hand to his lips, Eros drew his fingertip over his lower lip, his tongue flicking out to glaze over the velvet. A hitch of breath from the shirtless dreamboat sent a shiver straight to his groin and he sucked the finger into his mouth. He pulled the glove off with as much grace and fluidity as a snake sliding from a tree. 

"Enjoying the show, honey?" Eros drawled, twisting the glove in his hands before wrapping it around the back of Viktor's neck. With a sharp tug, he drew in his prey, stopping millimetres from his lips. So close, yet so far. He knew how to play this game too. But he was aching to get to the finish line.

"Mmmm, baby~" Viktor entwined his slender fingers with Eros', pulling his hand over his head as he brought his mouth down on to his playmate's, pinning him to the wall with every inch of him, the friction in his slacks all set to drive him to the brink of insanity. His other hand slid into the opening of the catsuit and he finally began sliding the satin off one shoulder, his lips capturing the revealed flesh immediately, the soft moan of his name making his head spin.

The slow, methodical way Viktor's fingers grazed over Eros' heated flesh was maddening. He was taking him apart, piece by teasing piece. Full, soft lips leaving scorching and wet kisses behind on each stretch of skin he revealed. The cap of his shoulder, the hard line of his clavicle. Searing stripes of his tongue lined the sharp outcropping of bone there, where his skin was sensitive and taut. A shaky breath hissed through his lips as a hand gently tugged on the slowly widening gap of the suit, peeling the satin off his arm like a fresh layer of skin on a reptile.

Viktor moaned as he saw more creamy, vanilla flesh revealed from underneath the black catsuit, the gentle lines where seams had laid, pink and a touch irritated. He kissed along the soft line of his bicep, the pale blue of a vein in his forearm, drinking in the hitched, desperate breaths falling from Eros' lips.

"These fingers... so delicious, babydoll." Viktor moaned into that palm, soft and warm against his lips. He kissed and swirled his tongue around each fingertip before setting the naked limb on his own cheek and released the hold on his older hand, letting it drop. As it fell, the other shoulder slid off, exposing the rest of his toned chest. "God damn, baby..." his words fell out in a tone he'd only whispered in dreams, in fantasies with faceless men.

"Viktor..." Eros cried, the tension pooling in his stomach rising and tinting his cheeks rosy pink. This was better than any whiskey. Any scotch. The dizzying aroma of that cologne he'd only barely smelled before, heady moans and the caress of Eros' bare hand on his cheek. "P-please..."

Something snapped. An arm torn from the sleeve, crystalline bodice shoved down around his waist.

Viktor all but dropped to his knees as he shoved the catsuit further down, past those full hips, beyond those thick thighs to his knees. There, gravity took over, the satin pooling at Eros' feet, stilettos striking a harsh contrast to his translucent skin. 

"Fu- _uck_... Eros..." He drank in the view, imprinting it to memory to keep him company on the next boring stakeout. 

Eros stepped out of the mass of satin, bold and empowered despite wearing nothing but his heels and a smile. And he knew full well which ones he'd gladly take off next. He ran a lazy hand from his marked neck and down his sculpted chest, rubbing his fingertip over a pert nipple in a languid circular motion, making Viktor's tongue practically loll out of his mouth. He continued to smooth his hand down his body, skimming over his toned stomach, along the curve of his hip to rest against his thigh, deliberately avoiding the one place he knew Viktor wanted to see him touch. Heat rose behind his navel as the older man's eyes fixated on him, making him even more erect than even he thought possible. 

"Your turn, sweet cheeks." Eros whispered hoarsely, twirling his finger in the air, pointing at the slacks that, by now, left little to the imagination.

Viktor didn't take his eyes off Eros for a single second as he undid his belt. Eros grinned wolfishly as he yanked at his fly and pushed his trousers to the floor. 

"Aww," Eros pouted with a sweet smile, "you're still wearing too many layers." He stepped forward, running a fingertip over the waistband of his briefs, revelling in how Viktor's eyes rolled into his head at the close proximity. They rolled even further when he slipped his hand into the opening and wrapped his long fingers around him and gave one teasing, tantalising stroke. 

"Y-you're gonna be the death of me, babydoll." Viktor panted, pushing his briefs to the floor to add to the pile of useless material. Eros wrapped his hand around him again, teasing his reddening tip with his thumb, drawing out a tear of precome at the first touch.

Eros was suddenly on his knees, gazing up at him with fire in his eyes and a devilish grin on his lips.

"Then I'd best make sure you go out with a smile, Viktooorrrrr~"

" _Jesus, Mary and Joseph_... look at you." Viktor groaned as his eyes rolled back at the sight of him. An incubus, the dark smolder in his amber eyes scorching like hellfire. The demon batted thick raven eyelashes and crawled long fingers up Viktor's thighs, dancing across his flesh in a routine choreographed by the devil himself.

"So this is all for me, hmm? Little old me did this to you?" Eros leaned closer, his breath hot against the head of Viktor's dick as he grabbed handfuls of his muscular rear. It was all Viktor could do to nod his head and card his hand through the satiny-soft ebony hair. "Sugar, mind if I have a taste?" He crooned as dangerously as he sang, his voice rich and sumptuous as the darkest dessert Viktor could imagine.

"Gods, yes, yes pleea _aAASEE_ -" his answer cut off with his own voice tearing through the now humid air of his apartment. Eros stretched crimson lips around the crown of his cock and swirled an adept tongue around it like hard candy, sinking down farther along the length inch by maddeningly slow inch. It took everything in his power not to thrust into that wet heat, to hear the noises he made with no air in his throat. To see tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he took his pleasure. But instead, fingernails bit into the meat of his left hand and his right gently scratched at his scalp in encouragement.

"God, yesyesyesyes, Eros, _ohhh my god, YESS_ ~" Viktor shouted as the younger man's lips met the base of his cock and swallowed around him, tight and constricting like a sweet, wet vice. Amber eyes gazed up at him, full of mirth and glazed over with lust. He popped off and bobbed up and down the slippery shaft, kneading Viktor's ass as he went, pulling his hips into his face.

Viktor took that as the signal to follow his lead.

Both hands cradled the back of that gorgeous raven head and Viktor began to piston in and out, the lewd sounds of squelching flesh and gagging racing Viktor right up to the edge. He released his grasp around the man's neck and withdrew, clamping a hand around the base to stave off that delicious edge a bit longer. He had other plans for the night.

"Ho, no you don't, sweetheart." Viktor panted with a shaky grin, pulling the raven-haired siren to his feet with a startled yelp. "You're not the only one who enjoys a little taste." With as little effort as breathing, he plucked the smaller man from the floor with one arm around the waist and turned on his heel. Eros sniggered into his neck, scraping teeth along the pulse, almost making him buckle as he strode through the darkened apartment.

"Finally taking me to bed, huh?" Eros whispered, his breath hot and wet against the shell of his ear. Viktor's laugh was throaty as Eros suddenly found himself flung onto his back, the surface cold and hard. A scrape of wood on wood made him realise he was on a table as Viktor flung a chair to one side.

"Soon, baby, but I don't like to eat in bed." Eros shivered at those words, eagerly raising his knees for the panting, drooling animal looming over him. Viktor slid his hands slowly along the inside of his thighs and Eros was almost whimpering already, his head tossing restlessly from side to side as Viktor massaged and toyed with the firm flesh.

Viktor leaned over him, running his tongue over the dips of his hips, smiling smugly as they bucked upwards to meet his mouth.

"Damn it to hell, Viktor!" Eros hissed impatiently. "Just do it - _pleeease_!"

He expected the hot, wet sensation of lips and tongue around his aching cock. What he got was the sharp dig of nails in his ass, hoisting him at a sharp angle to rest his knees on Viktor's shoulders. Splaying his hands on the table for balance, Eros strained his neck to look up at Viktor and moaned out loud at the sight of him kissing and nibbling along the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

He screamed as Viktor's face disappeared from view, only to be replaced by the intoxicating feeling of a hot, wet tongue lapping greedily at his entrance, fingernails leaving crescent-shaped marks in his ass as Viktor held him in the air.

"Ohhh h-holy _fuck!_ Vik-Viktor, I...I - ohhhh yes, yesyesmoreplease~" Eros was barely balancing on the table by his shoulders now, his back bowed and his legs now wrapping around Viktor's head, gripping the silver-haired monster between his thighs as he drove his long, solid tongue past that ring of tight muscles to go deep inside him. The leather of his heels dug into Viktor's back in an unholy way, pleasure tinted with the glorious sting of pain. Soft moans vibrated against his thighs as Viktor licked and lapped and sucked at him over and over, drool dripping over his sharp chin and onto the table as he moved faster, deeper, harder.

The kitchen area echoed with scream after scream from Eros' sweet lips. Going from begging for mercy to demanding more. From whispers of Viktor's name to endless chants of _'yes please yes fuck'._ His cock bounced on his stomach, aching and leaking even without being touched. A part of him wanted to reach down and see to it himself, but the bigger part of his brain was too busy being blown apart by the man between his legs.

"Viktor...'mclose, _sososocloseohhhhgoooodddd_ ~"

"Come for me, sweetness. Do it. Let go." Viktor panted against his wet hole, his own cock throbbing at the sight. Hooded eyes screwed tight with pleasure, panting breaths laced with the rough timbre of that sultry voice.

" _Vi-hiiiktoorr_..." he squeaked as the tight furl of muscle was breached by his hot tongue again and he clamped down, hard. He came with a scream, milky come running down his muscled stomach in rivulets. His chest heaved and his hole fluttered around Viktor's tongue, still lodged between his cheeks. He wanted to speak, to lavish him with unending choruses of worship for the sight he'd given him. But that would spoil the utter bliss of being so intimately inside him.

The pressure eased as Viktor gently lowered him entirely back onto the table, his long legs dangling off the edge limply. He wasted absolutely no time in leaning over him and lapping up every drop of spend dotting his chest and stomach, dancing his tongue in the dip of his belly-button, kissing away the fluid collected there. Eros moaned again, low and long and luxurious, soaking in the feel of Viktor's tongue all over him.

"Hope you're ready for another round, sweetheart." Eros crooned tiredly, Viktor's cock jumping at the dark rumbling sound of his post-orgasmic voice. 

"Sugar, if every round ends like that, you can have me as many times as you'd like." Viktor laughed and pulled him off the table, curling one arm under bent knees and wrapping the other around his back. He tossed his silver fringe back out of his eyes and turned, carrying the man down a dark hallway and into his bedroom, the thrum of arousal under his skin morphing into a scream as he looked between Eros' legs, finding the pink head of his cock, still hard.

"Now are you taking me to bed?" Eros whined, raising wet eyes to meet those azure pools in his best pout, knowing full well that debauched mess he looked. Hair disheveled, blush crawling across his cheeks and down his neck and eyes still teary from Viktor's assault on his throat. He watched that Adam's apple bob again.

"Yes. Now I'm taking you to bed, babydoll." Viktor's voice dropped, pulling an unbidden moan from Eros' lips. He kicked the heels off his feet, not bothering to try and untie them properly. The shoes clattered to the ground one after another, echoing down the long hallway, the sound of it driving Viktor's madness further. Unlike the cool surface of the table, a hard landing, Eros found his back gently cradled by the softest mattress he'd ever graced, sinking in like he was meant to be there. Long limbs stretched out languidly, curling arms over his head and legs lengthening with pointed toes in a tantalizing display of his lithe form. Viktor had to pick his jaw up off the floor.

"I hope you're not planning to just stand there all night." Eros called, beckoning him like a sailor to his demise. Viktor jumped in headfirst, crawling up to bracket the younger man's head like he had in the elevator, silver hair barely brushing the soft button of his nose.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good. 'Cause I'm about to make all your dreams come true." 

Viktor was rolled onto his back before his addled brain had time to process the words. He stared up at the dark ceiling for a moment, only for his eyes to be drawn to his chest by the drag of short fingernails over his nipples.

"Don't take your eyes off me, _Viktor_." the words scratched deeper than those perfect nails ever could, clawing at his heart, his very soul, as Eros slowly moved to straddle his waist. 

"C-Couldn't even if-if I tried, Eros, baby." Viktor hissed and trembled as Eros wrapped his hand around him again, pumping slow and hard, bringing him back to life until he was thick and ready for him. He saw the raven-haired vixen worry his lower lip as he tugged and twisted him, dark eyes focused on the job at hand, so to speak.

_"Yuuri."_

Viktor frowned and propped himself up on his elbows. The soft, almost demure voice that had said that was so unlike the gravelly, lustful tones he'd heard all night, it took his slow brain a moment to realise it was Eros who had spoken. 

"What was that, baby?" 

Amber eyes locked on his, uncertainty settling behind those golden irises for the first time all night. "That - that's my name. My real name. Call me Yuuri, please, Viktor?"

Viktor wasn't a fool. Of course he knew Eros was a stage name. A persona. A mask. Now he was looking at someone so much more than a temptress, a singer, a devil in stilettos. He was looking at the man.

And Viktor fell. Oh boy, he fell _hard._

He reached out a hand to brush against Eros' -no, _Yuuri's-_ cheek, fingers dancing along the heated skin before cupping his face. He gently pulled him towards him, capturing his mouth in a soft, almost chaste kiss. 

"Yuuri..." that name was now engraved on his heart and he wanted to say it over and over. Shout it from the rooftop. But now, he whispered it, voice thick with a hundred thoughts and desires and wants, each one directed solely at this angel that God had deemed too perfect for heaven and sent down just for him.

A tear pricked at the corner of Yuuri's eye as he leaned in again for another kiss. He'd never told anyone his real name, not even Yakov. It was safer that way. Safer for everyone. But now, in the cocoon of Viktor, the feeling of him everywhere, he wanted him to know him. He wanted to be wanted as Yuuri, not Eros. To hell with Eros! Yuuri wanted Viktor and Eros couldn't have him!

"Yuuri..." the way Viktor said his name again, breath hot on his throat as he claimed his neck again, made his head swim. More. He wanted more. 

"Viktor..." he shifted his weight, spread his thighs a little wider and dipped his spine out, hovering, waiting. He reached between them, taking a firm grip on the base of Viktor's thick cock and positioned himself over it, golden eyes glistening in the darkness. 

Viktor took Yuuri's hips in his hands, brushing the pads of his thumbs along the jutting bones. "Please, Yuuri." his heart threatened to jump out of him if he didn't keep saying that name. "Please, Yuuri, sweetheart..."

"God, say it again? Please?" he said, thighs shaking with the effort of keeping himself up.

 _"Yuuuuuuuuuuri~_ " Viktor crooned, his eyes rolling back as he sank down around him, the velvety heat enveloping him, consuming him, swallowing him whole. "Yuuuuuuuuri, oh my god, Yuuri-" The only word on his mind. The only name he ever wished to speak again. Yuuri. Their skin sat flush, Viktor's entire length sheathed inside him. Yuuri moaned at the fullness, the thick heat splitting him open, finding himself unable to move a muscle.

"Vi-Viktor- I..." a slender finger pressed against his lips, the cherry of his lipstick all but worn off, another layer of the mask removed.

"Want me to take the lead, babydoll? My precious? My Yuuuuri?" Viktor asked gently, feeling the exhaustion seeping into the younger man's legs, the trembling sign of a weary body.

"Yes, please." the sweetness of his voice rolled over Viktor's skin like bathwater, warm and soothing down to his bones. He felt his lips curling into that smile, the one that hadn't been seen in years. A heart-shaped mouth beamed up at Yuuri, his extended arm trailing down his abdomen and finding its rightful place on his hip.

"My pleasure, my Yuuri." Viktor winked with the double entendre, punctuating the end of his sentence with a sharp thrust upwards, easily lifting Yuuri off his lap with the combined strength of his arms and hips. It drew a surprised squeak from the younger man and a rumbling moan from Viktor, the friction just as heavenly as he'd been imagining. All the lead-up, all the teasing, all the mischief, it all brought him here, to falling apart with him. Not to taking him apart, or to being taken apart. But in the mutuality of it, of being both the predator and the prey, of falling together, in perfect harmony. Gasping breaths orchestrated in concert with the wet glide of flesh on flesh and the gentle creaking of his bed frame against the wall.

Yuuri's cries were markedly different than the lascivious gravel of Eros. Eros was dark and deep like a heady stout, but Yuuri was sweet as honey, crisp as champagne. His very breath was sugar on Viktor's tongue. Yuuri grasped Viktor's hands and pulled them off his hips, cupping his cheeks with them instead, a soft smile crawling across his face. He folded over Viktor's chest, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck as the older man continued thrusting, holding their tender eye contact like their lives depended on it. Yuuri could see for miles in the crystalline orbs of Viktor's eyes, like someone had captured a cloudless June morning and set it into his irises. Viktor fell into the velvety chasm of Yuuri's eyes, surrounded on all sides by the rich warmth of cocoa and sunlight. 

Viktor felt the tight coil behind his navel curling and uncurling, threatening to release.

"Yuuri, I'm close, so close. Finish with me? Please?" He panted, rubbing a thumb over Yuuri's flushed cheekbone. Yuuri nodded wordlessly, biting his lip and rushing right back up to the edge he'd been so carefully avoiding.

"Viiiktooorr, _fuckfuckfuckfuck_..." The older man pushed him up and wrapped his hand around Yuuri's twitching length, reveling in the desperate heaving breath mingled with his name, wicked prayers and expletives. Viktor's eyes rolled shut when he felt that fluttering pressure, the muscles convulsing around him the way he'd felt on his tongue.

"Come with me, Yu- _uuuuuuri-_ " Viktor moaned as Yuuri's second orgasm ripped through him, his hole gripping him in that perfect way. Viktor saw stars, radio static filling his ears as he emptied everything into Yuuri's pliant body.

They lay there, in that sweaty heap, for longer than both of them could truly remember. It may have only been minutes, it may have been hours. But as their breath slowed and heart rates mellowed, the sweetness of the moment sank in. Viktor pulled Yuuri off and down to his side, curling around him and cradling his head gently to his chest.

Distantly, Viktor heard the phone by the door ringing, undoubtedly a noise complaint from the neighbors. But he was far too busy to answer the damned telephone. Not while this angel was blinking so sweetly at him.

"Not gonna get that?" Yuuri asked sleepily, barely keeping his eyes open.

"Nah. I already know what they're gonna say." Viktor replied, laying a kiss between Yuuri's thick eyebrows.

"Oh? and what might that be, Viktor?"

"They're going to say, ' _Mr. Nikiforov, we would like to please ask that you refrain from making your beautiful, charming, altogether lovely Yuuri scream so loudly tomorrow night_ '. Or something like that." Viktor explained coolly.

"Tomorrow night hmm? How do you know I'll be around tomorrow night?" Yuuri asked, almost sliding into his Eros again.

"Oh. I was under the impression that you wouldn't be going home in the morning. I'm off the job until Monday morning, darlin'." Viktor leaned up on one elbow and ran a hand through the raven hair again. 

"I suppose I can be convinced into staying for breakfast." Yuuri replied, yawning.

"Only breakfast, Yuuuuuuuri?" Viktor pouted, his voice rolling over the extended sound of the 'u'.

"On Monday." Yuuri added, pressing a finger to Viktor's lips and rolling into his embrace, sighing contently and softly into the pale, alabaster expanse of flesh. 

Yuuri had already resigned himself to staying by the man's side. And Viktor wished he'd never leave.

**Author's Note:**

> In true Humphrey Bogart fashion:
> 
>  
> 
> _"This looks like the beginning of a beautiful relationship."_
> 
>  
> 
> This took us the best part of TWO WHOLE DAYS to drabble together and we hope you think it was worth it - we know we think so ;)
> 
> Drop us a line. We're always available for a chat :)  
> IA & Lauriana25 <3


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